Flaming Bag of Dung
by magicsprite
Summary: As you can see, this is a parody on the LotR. If you fell the sudden urge to flame something, insult this. It stinks.


Flaming Bag of Dung  
  
The first and only chapter.  
  
Author's note: Ok. This story is pointless. Utterly dumb and stupid. I know it's bad. It's supposed to be. The only purpose this story serves is so that you few, angry and disturbed reviewers have somewhere to go to vent anger. Instead of flaming someone who worked hard on their story, insult and berate this one. It lives for it. It was written for it. And, if, in chance, you do like my story, there is something clinically wrong with you and you should seek psychiatric help. Now, I beg you not to read any further.  
  
Disclaimer: This story is impossible to write a perfectly accurate and understandable disclaimer on, so, like the story, I will throw it out half-heartedly. Books I got stuff from: The Lord of the Rings; Harry Potter; Pure Dead Magic; The Works of Beatrice Potter; Alice in Wonderland; and Triss. Movies I borrowed from: Harvey; Alice in Wonderland. Television programs I copied out of: Monty Python's Flying Circus. As you can see, I honestly made up ONLY the plot. Please don't sue, it will be a waste of both of our times.  
  
Annoying prologue that is necessary to explain things:  
  
Once upon a time there was a ring. It was an evil ring and belonged to an evil eye-ball named Sauron. One day, while Sauron was out strolling with his minions, he got into a war, and was killed so that he could come back in later books. The ring was taken from him by a human who got corrupted by the power of it and was eventually killed (with no respawning). The ring fell in a river, where years later it was found by a good hobbit named Deagol. Deagol's best friend named Smeagol killed him and ran off under a mountain where he hid for hundreds of years until the ring was stolen by another hobbit named Bilbo Baggins. Eventually Bilbo got old, fat, and ugly and passed the ring on to his second cousin who he had to take care of. And that brings us to where we are now. I will now continue.  
  
And now... The story! Yeah!:  
  
One day while Frodo Baggins was walking through the woods he met up with his old friend, Gandalf the wizard.   
  
"Frodo! Do you still have the ring?" Said Gandalf.  
  
"Yes, I've had it since Bilbo insanely ran off into the hills on his birthday."  
  
"You have to take it to Mount Doom and destroy it," Said Gandalf.  
  
"Why? It's pretty. I could probably pawn it off for some serious cash!" insisted Frodo.  
  
"No, it's evil. You have to throw it into th fires of Mount Doom and destroy it." Gandalf, by this time, was very annoyed.  
  
Just then Sam Gamgee walked into the clearing.   
  
"What's going on? What's all this talk of an evil ring? Are you going somewhere, Frodo? Can I come?" Sam looked at Frodo and drooled geekily.  
  
Yes! A way to get rid of the creepy gardener! Thought Gandalf evilly. "Um, he's going to Mount Doom to destroy an evil ring and keep it out of the hands of an evil eye-ball, and you can go with him and help," Gandalf stated.  
  
"Wait– you said nothing about an evil eye-ball! Bump this, I'm going nowhere with that scary gardener!" And with that, Frodo ran out of the clearing screaming like a maniac and throwing the ring over his shoulder.  
  
"Aw, crap. Now who can I bodily force to destroy the ring?" Gandalf's face fell.  
  
"Me, me, me, me, me, me!!!!" Sam started to yell, while jumping up and down and waving his arms about like an idiot.  
  
"No, you're just a creepy, perverted, little hobbit, I'll ask that hot elf over there!" So Gandalf walked over to Legolas the elf, who was waiting conveniently in the next sentence. "Hello there, Legolas. Would you do me a big favor and take this ring and throw it in Mount Doom? Thanks, bye." Gandalf disappeared without waiting for a response.  
  
Legolas looked at the ring in his hand, shrugged his shoulders, and started walking in the general direction of Mount Doom. Soon, he ran into a boy with black hair and a lightning shaped scar.  
  
"Who are you?" he asked.  
  
"Harry Potter and you're going the wrong way. Mount Doom is that way! You're in Scotland right now!" The boy pointed south and then jumped on his broom to continue taunting a large dragon. "Bye!"  
  
"Why, so I am!" Legolas said, looking up at the granite castle behind him. "Must have taken a wrong turn at the Enchanted Forest. Oh, well," he said, again shrugging his shoulders, and soon he was off.   
  
Eventually he came to a fork in the road with a big cat sitting in the tree. "Which way to home, I mean Mount Doom," he asked the cat.  
  
"Oh, it doesn't matter. Either way is wrong. To the left there are people who are mad and to the left are people who are insane," replied the cat nonchalantly.  
  
"What's the difference?"  
  
"Left is wrong." The cat grinned.  
  
"But you said, they're both wrong, what's the point of telling me that?" Legolas was beginning to get angry.  
  
"Right leads to the Easter bunny, and Peter Cottontail, and Atilla the Bun. That's not mentioning Bescarum and Harvey, but he's invisible." The cat began to clean it's paw.  
  
"So it's rabbit land." Legolas sat down, ready for more pointless conversation.  
  
"Yes, and I doubt you want to go to Rabbit-land. Awful place, really. Only eat lettuce and carrots, down that-a-way. However, left might be worse." The cat smirked, if it could be called a smirk.  
  
"How is it worse?"  
  
"It's the land of all ex-Monty Pythonisms. The road becomes near clogged with dead parrots, exploding sheep, and murderous barbers who wish to be lumberjacks. Wretched place, really. Only eat spam." The cat shuddered at the thought.  
  
"So, if both ways are terrible, can I just go through that little door labeled, Mount Doom?"   
  
"If you want to be boring, I suppose so." And with that the cat vanished.  
  
Legolas walked through the door and was disappointed to find the seventh layer of hell. "Darn! Wrong door. I guess that's what happens when you pay immigrants minimum wage- things get mislabeled." He came back out and decided to leave the path and go straight.  
  
Another few miles through the forest and Legolas came to a house. He entered it and the first thing he saw was a teenaged girl sitting at a computer and typing. "Who are you?" He asked.  
  
"I'm the author!! Get out! You're not supposed to meet me! You're not even supposed to know I exist! I'll get fired as a writer!" She screamed.  
  
"But how do I get to Mount Doom?" He asked.  
  
"I'm not allowed to say; you have to find out on your own."  
  
"But, you're the author! You're all-powerful!" he pleaded.  
  
"Oh yeah." She sat back down at her computer and after a few quick typed words Legolas found himself at Mount Doom, standing at the base of the volcano. "Couldn't teleport me to the top, now could she?" Another soft pop, and Legolas found himself at the top. "Thank you!"  
  
Legolas moved to the edge and threw the ring in. "Glad that's over with. Now I can go home," he said, slapping his hands together. He looked up expectantly and realized the author was going to cut him no slack on this one. "Darn! I'll have to pass through the land of ex-Monty Pythonisms!" As, the author I now choose to skip telling you the next chapter, for it is a very horrible three weeks in which Legolas is allowed to eat nothing but spam, is followed about irritatingly by Terry Gilliam, and whenever he asks for a mattress to spend the night on, he must stand in the tea-box and sing old protestant hymns.   
  
Legolas finally arrived home, and to his surprise and delight found that all of the hobbits (excluding Frodo who had gone soul-searching) and Gandalf had thrown him a party. He sat back and ate cake until he near exploded, and then went to bed with a pig.  
  
"Hey!" Said Legolas indignantly.  
  
"That's my revenge for you almost getting me kicked out of the writing business, so there!" said the author. And then, sure enough, an old fat, smelly pig appeared between Legolas's clean sheets. "And don't mention me to your friends, or you'll go mysteriously bald!"  
  
"Gulp," gulps Legolas. So he laid down to the first good night's sleep in weeks, with no singing.  
  
THE END   
  
  
  
Author's note: You all know how to review, now get on with it! 


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